CHAPTER X
"OUR OWN MEN, SIR!"
Marlborough was late in taking the field that year. Important mattersengaged his attention at home. He saw more clearly than ever that theWhigs alone were the real supporters of him and his war plans. Theparty even passed a resolution to the effect that they would not hearof peace so long as a Bourbon ruled over Spain. Then there were theintrigues at work that were undermining the influence of the Duchessof Marlborough, and consequently of the Duke himself, at Court. Harleywas known to be working for the overthrow of Marlborough. He waspreparing to introduce a formidable rival to the Duchess in Anne'sregards.
The young men were nothing loth to go back to their respectiveregiments, to say truth, when the time came. Inaction did not seem toagree with their young blood. Matthew, his wound now quite healed, waseager to get his next step. Fieldsend was already captain, and hopedere the close of the 1707 campaign to get his majority. As for GeorgeFairburn, he was quite content to be a soldier for soldiering's sake,yet would thankfully take promotion if it came his way. Blackett hadpaid a visit to the west-country home of the Fieldsends, and it waswhispered that he had there found a mighty attraction. But more ofthis may come later.
The year, to the bitter disappointment of our young officers, provedan unlucky one. In all directions things went wrong. As forMarlborough, from the very opening he experienced the old Dutchthwartings and oppositions, and, after a short and vexatious summer,he closed the campaign almost abruptly, and much earlier than informer years. There was to be no promotion for anybody yet awhile.
In Spain there was an overwhelming disaster. The French and Spanishforces, commanded by the redoubtable Berwick, completely defeated thecombined English, Dutch, and Portuguese troops under Galway, atAlmanza. So great a misfortune was this that Galway declared thatSpain would have to be evacuated by the Allies. The cause of theArchduke Charles was to all intents and purposes lost, and theBourbons were henceforth firmly seated on the throne of Spain.
Misfortune trod on the heels of misfortune. Prince Eugene attempted totake Toulon, the chief naval station in the Mediterranean, but failedto accomplish the task he had set himself. On the Rhine the Prince ofBaden was badly defeated by Villars, at Stollhofen, the disasterlaying Germany open to invasion by Louis. The gallant Sir CloudesleyShovel, who had risen from the position of cabin-boy, was drowned in agreat storm off the Scilly Islands, England thereby losing one of herablest admirals.
Glad were George and Matthew when, after a dull winter, the Dukeopened his campaign of 1708. The young men were now greater friendsthan ever, and not unnaturally so, after all that had happened and washappening. The reports they had occasionally from the elder Fairburnwere in the highest degree cheering. The two ladies were well; thepits were prospering marvellously.
The feeling at home, rumour said, was setting strongly in favour ofending the war and coming to terms with France. This discontent athome was supplemented by murmurings among the troops quartered atAntwerp, and still more by the uneasiness of the Dutch, who weredisposed to make a separate treaty with France and drop out of theconflict. Marlborough felt that he must achieve some brilliant successbefore that campaign was ended.
"There is going to be hot work for us, that is plain," the twolieutenants said to each other, "and, if we have luck, we shall getthe promotion we have been waiting so long for."
Bruges and Ghent had gone back to the French allegiance, and Louisdetermined to make an attempt to secure Oudenarde also, an importantfortress lying between the French borders and Brabant. The French armyboasted two generals, the royal Duke of Burgundy, an incapable leader,and the Duke of Vendome, a most capable one. A more unfortunatepartnership could not well be imagined; Burgundy and Vendome were ineverything the opposite of each other, and the quarrels between themwere as numerous as they were bitter, so that the army of Louis XIVwas handicapped at the very outset.
It was three in the afternoon of July 11. The Allies were fagged outwith the marchings and the heat of the day when they came in sight ofthe enemy's forces near Oudenarde.
"Precious glad of a rest!" Matthew Blackett remarked when the signalto halt came. To his surprise and dismay the order to form immediatelyfollowed.
"Just like the Duke," commented his friend Fairburn.
Quickly the cavalry were got together for a charge.
"The old fellow doesn't intend the Frenchmen to slip away withoutfighting," the men remarked to one another.
Suddenly, almost before the whole body of horse was ready, Marlboroughdirected a charge to be made. For the first time our lieutenants foundthemselves not in the Duke's own division. The commander of the rightwing, a very strong force, was Prince Eugene, who, having now nothingto do in Italy, had hurried northwards to join his friend. In such hothaste had the Prince travelled, indeed, that he had out-stripped hisown army. Here was Prince Eugene, but not Prince Eugene's men. Hiswing at Oudenarde consisted entirely of English troops, whileMarlborough's own wing was composed of men of various othernationalities.
Almost all writers on military tactics agree that the battle ofOudenarde was one of the most involved and intricate on record, andthat it is well nigh impossible to give any detailed account of thepuzzling movements. The leading points were these.
Marlborough's force crossed the Scheldt; then the opposing wing of theFrench left the high ground they occupied and swooped down upon him,endeavouring to force the Allies back into the river. A terriblehand-to-hand encounter followed, bayonet and sword alone being usedfor the most part in such cramped quarters. In the thick of it theDuke sent the Dutch general with a strong detachment to seize thevantage ground on the rise which the enemy had lately left. The movewas successful, and the French found themselves between two fires.
It was growing dusk. Eugene and his men had forced back theiropponents and were now following hard after them. Suddenly shots cameflying in, and in the dimness of the departing day an advancing columnwas observed to be moving towards them. What could it mean? Apparentlythat the enemy had rallied and were once more facing them. It was anentirely unexpected change of front, but Eugene prepared to meet theshock once more. George Fairburn took a long look, shading his eyeswith his hands.
"By Heaven, sir!" he said, addressing Colonel Rhodes, "they are ourown men!"
"Impossible, Fairburn!" the colonel answered. But Blackett and othersbacked up George's opinion. The word ran quickly along the line thatthe shots came from friends, not from the foe, and some consternationprevailed.
The next moment, at a nod of assent from the colonel in answer totheir eager request, Lieutenants Blackett and Fairburn were gallopingmadly across the intervening space, each with his handkerchieffastened to the point of his sword, and both shouting andgesticulating. Bullets began to patter around them, but heedless theydashed on. It seemed impossible they could reach the advancing columnalive.
Half the distance had been covered, when the two horsemen saw on theirleft a great body of troops tearing along towards them in furioushaste. "The French!" George exclaimed; "there's no mistake aboutthem!" On the two flew towards their friends, for the men towards whomthey were speeding had by this time discovered their mistake and hadceased firing. It was a neck and neck race, and a very near thing. Asthe horsemen cleared the open space and dashed safe into the arms oftheir friends, a huge rabble of demoralized French swept across thepath they had just been following. No narrower escape had the twoyoung fellows yet had.
The truth was at once evident. The Dutchman's division, having driventhe enemy from the high ground, had wheeled, and was thus meeting thePrince's wing, which in its turn had advanced along a curving line.Each body in the growing darkness had mistaken the other for theenemy. The plucky dash made by the two young fellows, though happilynot in the end needed, nevertheless received high praise from theirbrother officers, and especially from the colonel himself.
For the next half-hour the fleeing French poured headlong through thegap across which the lieutenants had galloped, between the Du
tchman'sdivision and the Prince's. Darkness alone prevented the slaughter frombeing greater than it was. The numbers of those who fell on the fieldof Oudenarde, important as the battle was, were in fact far short ofthose killed at Blenheim or Ramillies.
What was there now to prevent Marlborough from marching straight onParis itself? He was actually on the borders of France, victorious,the French army behind him. He was eager; the home Government wouldalmost certainly have approved of the step. The heart of many a youngfellow under the great leader beat high, when he thought of the mightypossibilities before him. But it was not to be. The Prince raised thestrongest objections to the Duke's bold plan, and the Dutch wereterrified at the bare thought of it. So Marlborough turned him toanother task, the siege of the great stronghold of Lille. It may beobserved in passing that Vendome wanted to fight again the next dayafter Oudenarde, but Burgundy refused. Vendome in a rage declared thatthey must then retreat, adding, "and I know that you have long wishedto do so," a bitter morsel for a royal duke to swallow.
Lille had been fortified by no less a person than the great master ofthe art, Vauban himself. In charge of its garrison was MarshalBoufflers, a splendid officer. Louis was as resolute to defend andkeep the place as the Allies were to take it. The actual investment ofthe town was placed in the hands of Eugene, whose men had by this timearrived, while Marlborough covered him. The siege train brought up bythe Duke and his generals stretched to a distance of thirteen miles.Berwick and Vendome were at no great distance away.
The siege of Lille lasted a full two months, and few militaryoperations have produced more splendid examples of individual dash andcourage.
Blackett and his friend found themselves one day taking part in arisky bit of business. Throughout the siege there had been somedifficulty in procuring provisions for the Allies, and supplies weredrawn from Ostend. On this occasion an expected convoy had not arrivedto time, and a reconnoitring party had accordingly been sent out toglean tidings of it. From a wooded knoll a glimpse of the missingtrain was caught, and at the same moment a large body of French wasperceived approaching from the opposite direction. The Frenchmen hadnot yet seen the convoy, being distant from it some miles, theintervening country thickly studded with plantations. But in half anhour the two bodies would have met, and the provisions sorely neededwould have fallen into the enemy's hands. It was a disconcerting pass,and George Fairburn set his wits to work.
"I have a plan!" he cried a moment later, and he hastily told it tothe officer in command, Major Wilson. That gentleman gave an emphaticapproval.
Behold then, a quarter of an hour later, a couple of young peasants atwork in a hayfield down below. Stolidly they tossed the hay as theyslowly crossed the field, giving no heed to the tramp of horses near.A voice, authoritative and impatient, caused them to look round inwonderment, as a mounted officer came galloping up. He inquired of thepeasants whether they had seen anything of the convoy, describing itsprobable appearance. The listeners grinned in response, and the faceof one of them lit up with intelligence, as he made answer in volublebut countrified French.
"Where have you picked up such vile French?" inquired the officer.
"I'm from Dunkirk, please your honour," the man replied with anothergrin, to which the other muttered, "Ah! I suppose the French ofDunkirk is pretty bad!"
In another minute the yokels were leading the way through aplantation, along which ran a little stream. At one spot the water wasvery muddy, and the marks of hoofs were plentiful. "We are evidentlyclose upon them," remarked the officer jubilantly, and at a brisk trothe and his men rode on, a gold louis jingling down at the feet of thepeasants as the party dashed away.
"Now for it!" whispered George, for he and Matthew were the tworustics, "we can save the convoy. Our men, after trampling over theburn here, will have turned as we agreed. We shall find them in thenext plantation."
He was right in his conjecture. The two regained their friends just asthe head of the convoy hove in sight. To lead the train in a differentdirection, and to safety, was now easy. The supplies reached theirdestination.
"Ton my honour, young sirs," the Colonel exclaimed, when he learnt thestory, "it was a smart trick, but a risky one--confoundedly risky,gentlemen!"
The fall of Lille reduced France to desperation. Louis was at hiswits' end. To his credit, he sought earnestly to negotiate a peace forhis unhappy and exhausted country. The terms offered by the Allies,however, were too exacting, and not a Frenchman but rose to theoccasion; this, however, was in the following year. So the campaignended, the enemy beaten and exhausted, but not in utter despair.
Captains Blackett and Fairburn were once more granted a term of leavewhen late autumn came round. From London, which George saw now for thefirst time, the two travelled all the way to Newcastle in thewonderful stage-coach which ran from the English to the Scotchcapital.
In high spirits they hurried towards their native village. At theentrance to it they came all at once upon a gentleman walking in thecompany of three ladies.
"Fieldsend!" declared Matthew.
"Yes, by Jove!" cried George, "And with three ladies all to himself.It's too much!"
With Marlborough to Malplaquet: A Story of the Reign of Queen Anne Page 10
